Tears of an Angel
by xascasfellx
Summary: Dean's a demon. He shouldn't be feeling like this. But it's Cas and he's always been there for Dean. It's time for him to repay the favor.


Title: Tears of an Angel

Author: xascasfellx

Rating: M

Pairing: Dean/Castiel

Spoilers: S9 Final

Word Count: 3,555

Warning: Major Characters' Death

Half way across the room, right in the middle, the Angel twitches, convulsing on the floor, a shimmering blue glow coming from his mouth and his eyes. A white liquid, also having the same blue glow, trickles out of his open mouth and towards the hard ground. His spasms only seem to get worse as the seconds pass on. His head snaps in every different, mostly in angles that seem to be physically impossible. A pool of crimson blood pools around him from the stab wound in his abdomen; a tiny bit mixing in with the white-ish blue ooze around his mouth. He claws behind him, wanting to grab onto something, but nothing or no one is there to get a hold of.

Castiel screams in pain, eyes wide and dark. Nothing like his former self in the slightest.

Tears, also that same magical blue color, streams down his worn out face.

And all Dean can do is stare at him in mildly confused horror.

Cas gasps for breath, even though Angel's don't really need to breathe. He arches halfway off the ground, levitating in the air for a few seconds then banging down on the wood with a back snapping force.

He screams louder, starting the highest pitch he can manage before transforming into his normal Angel voice. Windows around the tiny room begin to shake, the lights above them begin to flicker on and off.

Then he stops. Like it's all over. And along with Cas, Dean can finally exhale too, even though Demons don't need too either.

Castiel lies on the floor motionless, looking up at the ceiling. Dean can see a tiny tear drop fall from the corner of his eye, raining down his cheek and disappearing into his thinning, sweat soaked hair. He bites on his lips so hard it should have started bleeding and maybe it did. With the blood already on his face, Dean can't tell the difference. Soft gasps fill the area between them.

And as all this happens, Dean can only stare. He can't bring his feet to move towards Castiel, or towards the door to leave, or even make his hands reach into his pocket to call for Sam, just so he doesn't have to go through this, whatever it may be, alone. Actually, he knows what is happening. Metatron had mentioned it before, only at the time, other things seemed to be more important, so Dean didn't really pay attention. For years he hasn't paid attention to Cas. He's missed so much that now as it winds down to the final hour, he wishes he could go back and start over.

It's all so confusing. He's a demon. He shouldn't feel these things. Resentment. Remorse. Sorrow. They are emotions he really didn't even have when he was human, especially not now when he doesn't even have a soul. Only, seeing Cas dying in the middle of his bedroom floor, practically alone, brings along so many things that he wishes it didn't.

As another episode begins, Cas arches off the floor again, whispering to himself amongst varies amounts of gasps and moaning. His voice continues to grow in pitch, till the lights start flickering again. The one nearest him blows out in a loud explosion of light and glass.

Dean steps closer, getting a better idea of what it is Cas is whispering.

"—Sorry….sorry—Father—" Is all he could make out. It's more than he wanted to know. Castiel twists his head to the side, locking eyes with Dean. They widen in shock as if he didn't know Dean was even in there. Or maybe he was shocked about the face under this one. His new face. It still shocked even him whenever he looked in the mirror and Cas had only seen it once before. As he continues to twitch around the floor, his eyes don't waver from Deans, and Dean doesn't make an effort to let go of the blue eyes that are pleading to him.

He shutters.

Dean takes another step towards Cas, feeling somewhat responsible.

That was a lie.

He blames himself, like he has blamed himself for every other damn thing that goes wrong in life. If he could go back to the beginning and change that one thing, the one thing that made all of these events unfold, he would in a blink of an eye, without questioning it. That one moment when it all started— when he realized the Angel he'd known for years was falling and Dean could have done something about it. He could have caught him, only he didn't. He'd ignored him, thinking it was just an Angel thing to have so many new emotions and not know what they meant. He just ignored his feelings since the beginning, knowing good and well how Cas felt towards him.

Because Cas was in a male vessel. He was an Angel.

But most importantly because Dean was a prick.

If he had just…done something about it sooner Cas would have never hung on to Dean this long. He wouldn't be dying now, right in front of him.

Dean shuffles forward, kneeling down on the ground towards Cas—their eyes never leaving each other's. Cas whimpers, his hands flapping around his body with another episode. More glowing ooze comes from his nose as he tries to turn away from Dean. Dean lifts a hand, pulling Cas' face back towards him with the most tenderness he could amount to at the moment.

"Hey Cas." He quaked. Castiel tries to open his mouth to speak but a high pitched wail comes out instead. His face goes red as he tries to pull away from Dean's touch, only Dean is a little stronger than Cas now. He lowers Castiel's head to his lap, running a hand through his hair.

Somewhere amongst the pain he could just make out a single, "Dean," said in a noise that could only be pinned down to despair. He had to close his eyes and take a breath before he spoke. It left a mark on him. This was Cas. Demon or not, this was Castiel. Not just some random Angel. His Angel. And he was dying—in Dean's arms.

"Yah, I'm here, man." What does a Demon say to an Angel that is dying due to a stolen grace ejecting itself from his vessel? Nothing. Because that just doesn't happen. "It's going to be okay." Lie. They both knew it. And it didn't seem to help the matter a single bit. Castiel rolled his eyes, on purpose or not, who could tell, and flung his head to the side, scratching his nails along the floor, leaving finger impressions deep in the wood. Dean takes Cas' hand in his, trying to steady it, but only to find out he was shaking just as bad. A few moments later the episode begins to die down, taking Cas' energy along with it. His eyes start to close. Dean's heart speeds up in fear; fear that this is it. He didn't know until now how worried he has been that this wouldn't pass, that this was in fact the end. He lowers his head closer to Cas trying to get a glimpse of life coming from the Angel. Cas licks his lips, coated in the white-ish blue bloody ooze. Dean feels his body begin to shake as he throws his head back in relief.

For a half an hour Dean stays on the floor holding Castiel in his arms as he drifts in and out of consciousness. He doesn't seem to stay awake for more than a minute, and when he is awake, he seems to be studying Dean. His eyes are always wide and pleading, watery like he's about to cry. It shouldn't have this effect on Dean, but for now, for Cas, he'll be honest—it's killing him. Slowly and excruciatingly.

Cas has more episodes, seeming to get worse and worse the more they come, and the longer they stay. He bleeds more now, and is beginning to take on a blue-grey glow around his entire body. Dean holds him without a word, running his hands through his hair, wiping the sweat off his brow, and cleaning as much of the blood off of him as he can. He removes the bed sheet that is neatly made on his bed, pulling it towards them so he can push gently against the wound on Cas' abdomen that only seems to be bleeding more the harder Cas struggles. Dean doesn't stop shaking. Neither does Cas.

An hour later, after a rather heinous moment of whether or not Cas was going to make it through the fit he just had, he squeezes Dean's hand with more strength than he's had since this all started.

It startled Dean a little.

Castiel whimpers, "Y-you shouldn't h-have to seem me like this." Dean gave a melodramatic chuckle, taking too much energy to actually pull off. He frowns instead.

"You've seen me in worse conditions, Cas." They both think the same thing. Dean flashes back, for just a second, to the moment he laid eyes on Castiel in Hell. Although, when he was human, he didn't remember seeing Cas, but now that he's a demon, he remembers well. He remembers the Angel that appeared before him in his lowest state, putting the shattered remains of his soul back together; seeing every deep dark secret he had. Castiel has seen all of him. Shouldn't it be fitting for Dean to repay the favor?

He takes a minute to catch his breathe. "I-I'm sorry."

Dean shakes his head a little, not understanding what on Earth Cas had to be sorry for. Everything he did, the good and the bad, were for what he thought was right. And damn it, that wasn't something to be sorry for. Cas always wanted to do the right thing. He always wanted the good in everything. Dean brushes a hair from Cas' eyes.

"Don't be. You have no reason to." Sure it's corny for the situation, and honestly if things were different it would have made him gag coming from his mouth, but…Cas needs him now. If he's going to die…he deserves to do it with a clear mind. No regrets. No hard feelings. No guilt.

"Dean—" He brushes his thumb over Cas' lips, silencing him.

"Cas. Don't. I've told you before, all the bad things that happened in the past, I've forgiven you for. Sammy has too. They're in the past. It's okay now." Cas shakes his head a little, like he doesn't believe it. "If anyone should be apologizing here, it should be me."

"N-No. No Dean. Y-you d-don't—" Dean places his thumb over Cas' lips again, giving it a light brush.

"Shh. Save your energy." He looks up at the wall in front of them, all too aware that Castiel is watching him. Maybe it'll be easier to say this without looking at him.

"I became the Lex Luther to your Superman. The Joker to your Batman. The Loki to your Thor. In the matter of dying in that moment, or choosing life as…this filth…we became opposites. And in this scenario, opposites don't attract." Okay maybe not so much. "Angels and Demons….they—really I shouldn't even be doing this for you. Sitting here with you while you—" He couldn't even bring himself to finish. "It's rather blasphemous don't you say? I should be the one speeding the process along." That is probably one of the worst things he could have said at the moment. His head feels all scrambled and not at all put together. He just can't seem to say what he needs to say. Three words is all it takes, yet they won't pass even his thoughts. Nice going Dean. He looks back down at Cas, just to see him smiling at him, that same crooked, half smile he's caught him doing a million times over. For some reason, it calms him down, making Dean feel a thousand times better.

"It's just…you worked so hard, for me. You—you put everything you had into me, all your strength and hope, your trust and damn it, your faith. Something I never deserved, Cas. Not even when I was human. I saw the struggle you went through in Hell to get me out. I saw the Hell you went through to put my soul back together. Just so…so what? I could throw it away, throw all your hard work out the window to become some fucking demon, of all things. You should be disguised in me, Castiel. So no, you don't have to say you're sorry. You have absolutely nothing to be sorry for." His voice begins to shake so he just stops, not daring to continue so he doesn't out right lose his shit. Castiel frowns at him. His hand comes up to rub gently against Dean's cheek, sending a spark through his body. He tries his hardest to shrug it off as just something that happens when a Demon and an Angel touch. Cas' hand falls back against his chest with the effort of lifting it.

"Y-you're beautiful, D-Dean Winchester. F-from the moment I first laid-d eyes on you in H-hell, I was f-found." Dean laughed, turning his head away so Cas couldn't see the blush creeping on his cheeks.

"I thought your Angel friend said you were lost."

Cas gave a wheeze that was supposed to mimic a laugh himself.

"She was w-wrong." He didn't say it out loud, but he was glad. They stay silent for another long while, still in the same position. Dean holds Cas against his lap, stroking his head, rubbing his cheek. Cas has a few more episodes, one of them so bad, it caused him to black out, another one causing him to start crying hysterically. Dean sat silently, shh-ing him, wiping tears away from both their eyes. Not that he would say it out loud, but he wished there was something he could do. He wished there was some way to save him, some way to take the pain away. He held on to Cas' hand as he nearly lifted himself off the ground and slamming back into Dean, convulsing to the point where he thought he heard one of Cas' bones snap, but it could have just as easily been the boards beneath them.

It was late now. Almost three thirty in the morning. Castiel has been here for almost six hours. He's been in this kind of pain, as far as Dean knew, for six hours. The bedroom is washed in a blue glow coming from Cas' translucent skin. His eyes are sunken in now, losing their color of his normal dark blue to a grey that almost seemed colorless. His skin is so white it could easily be mistaken for paper. His hair had started to fall out in small clumps about an hour ago. Dean told him it was okay. Because that was all he could do. He couldn't save him. He couldn't take the pain away. He couldn't reverse time and stop this from ever happening. There was nothing he could do and the sicker Cas got the fact that he hadn't done anything became more and more apparent. Cas had done everything for Dean and Sam. He had given everything for them and this one time Cas needs help, there's not a Goddamned thing he can do about it.

Dean was a wreck. He cried when Cas cried. He screamed when Cas screamed. And fuck it if he didn't care anymore. He would willingly take places with Castiel in a heartbeat. Cas doesn't deserve this. He never did. If anyone deserved the agony that was killing him, it was Dean. It was him. Why wasn't it him?

Cas had been asleep for around twenty minutes when he opened his eyes suddenly. It wasn't a shocked reaction, or a sudden burst of pain. It was slow, and groggy but it nearly made Dean jump out of his skin. Cas' eyes were glazed over, blue and shiny, unfocused on something above them. Dean watched his face intensely, hoping to see him get some color back, or to start smiling, or to show some sign that something good was happening. But Cas only stared above them for a while. He whispered something so low that Dean didn't catch it, but it okay, because it wasn't for him anyway. The room was increasingly getting warmer and warmer. Dean's hold on Cas' hand became stronger.

He began, "Cas—" But was interrupted by a soft gasp that came from between Cas' lips as his eyes fell back on Dean's, still glazed over, looking almost through him. "No…please—" A single tear fell from Dean's cheek, and he only knew that because it went straight into Cas' eye. "Not yet…not yet…" He whispered, beginning to hold Cas closer. This whole time he was thinking the moment wouldn't come. He thought there would be a miracle. But Cas' body warmed. His eyes glowed. His mouth hung slightly ajar, and began to have a shimmer inside.

"D-dean—"

"No, Cas you can't do this. You can't leave!" Dean wept, knowing well enough that he was getting hysterical. "Please, please don't! You can't leave me, you can't, you can't!" His eyes became so white there was no distinction of any shade of blue left. His mouth glowed like light shining through a church window on a Sunday's evening. Even his nose started to have light come through. He arched his back one last time as the light intensified, burning away at the last remaining specs of his stolen grace…till he fell limp against Dean's chest.

When it was over, Castiel looked like he always did. His skin was back to the same tan, toned color it had always been. His eyes were open, unfocused on Dean, but a radiant blue, just like the first time he'd seen him in this vessel. Even his hair had gone back to normal, full and messy. This body was just Jimmy Novak's deceased corpse. The little bit left that was Castiel was gone now, leaving a stranger in his place.

Even so, Dean felt like his chest was about to cave in. He felt like a hole had been burned away in his heart. It ached. Physically, his chest ached. He pulled Castiel's body closer to him, holding on tight. He didn't cry anymore because it was useless. Crying wouldn't bring him back. Crying wouldn't change the fact that he was gone. So Dean just sat there holding his body in his lap for a few more minutes, willing himself to believe that Cas was just asleep. That he had just blacked out from the pain; that it wasn't actually over. It didn't last long. The Demon in him knew and that part was tugging at the back of his brain too much for him to forget even a little.

Even though the body belongs to Jimmy, and has nothing left of Castiel in it, it was still his body for years. He lived in it since the moment they met on Earth. It was still a part of him, and right now, it was all Dean had left. He had to work with what he had.

Dean leaned down and placed his lips on the Cas'. They were already cold and stiff, nothing like he imagined they would have been, had Castiel still been in there. He pressed harder.

"Thank you Cas…for everything."

Dean wouldn't cry. Not because he was a heartless son of a bitch, which, let's face it, he was most of the times, but because it wouldn't bring Cas back; more to the point, Cas wouldn't want him too. No. He wouldn't cry. He would get up and bring Cas' body out to the main room of the bunker. Together him and Sam will salt and burn the body. He might say something, to himself of course, on Cas' behalf. Or he might not. One thing is for certain though, Dean will drink. He will go to the bar and he will drink till he can't see, and for a Demon, that's a fuck ton of alcohol.

But he won't cry. He won't go into a shell. He won't act differently just because someone he loves isn't here anymore.

He won't cry because he never got the chance to show Cas just how much everything he did meant to him. He won't cry because he never got to show Cas just how much he meant to Dean. He won't.

And when Dean changes his shirt out of the blood soaked one he currently wore he won't cry when he sees the outline of a wing. He won't cry when he rubs a finger over the inflamed skin in the shape of broken feathers. He won't cry when he realizes that the outline of those wings, covering from his hip bone up across his chest up to his shoulder blade will stay with him for the rest of his life, permanently burned on him. He won't.

What he will do is go take a long, long shower. Because in there, he's not crying, it's just the water.


End file.
